


Alive

by Rynbie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Not as angsty as you'd imagine, Zombie Apocalypse, pretty fluffy tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynbie/pseuds/Rynbie
Summary: Zombie Apocalypse AU.  Richie died a long time ago, but that doesn't mean Eddie has to let him go.This is essentially a Warm Bodies AU, idk what else to tell you.  Enjoy.All credit for inspiring Richie's personality and adorableness goes to racerose.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jamie Ryan Rose (jayryro)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayryro/gifts).



Eddie Kaspbrak was an idiot.

Okay so, first of all. He had been randomly drawn for the supply run - that part wasn’t his fault. All of his mother’s nagging and panic crying couldn’t change the fact that he had to go. You have to follow the rules if you want to live in the settlement. But the rest? The rest was his own fault. Like how he’d chosen a machete as a weapon over a gun, because frankly he found firearms intimidating. Or how he’d lagged behind the others. Just far enough behind for a few zombies to wander between him and the group. He was unwilling to slash through them with his poorly chosen weapon, so he’d tried an alleyway to get around them. Every turn had brought more zombies, until he was hopelessly separated from the others with no idea where to find them.

He managed to slip around a corner into another alleyway, he thought without being seen. He leaned heavily on the brick wall of the building and retrieved his inhaler from his hoodie pocket, taking a few glorious puffs.

A hand came around the edge of the building to grip his shoulder and he yelped in terror, stumbling away as more of them flooded into the alley. He ran, down one way and then another. He desperately needed to find cover, and fast.

There was a heavy door just a few feet away, and he managed to wrench it open and throw himself inside before yanking it shut. All the light vanished as it banged closed. He slowly backed away from the door, which rattled on its hinges as fists slammed against it. Something touched his foot and he had to covered his mouth to keep from screaming. He scrambled in his bag for his flashlight, switching it on and turning it on the offending lump on the floor. It was just another door, knocked off the wall in some older altercation. He shined the light down the corridor, finding nothing but a long, dark hallway of doors. He followed it to its end - a corner where a bit of natural light danced on the dark painted wall.   
  
Another few steps towards those streaks of sunlight and… he found himself on a stage. It was a theater, a grand one - all velvet seats and gilded walls. The domed ceiling had collapsed into the upper balcony, sending waves of sunlight down from above, illuminating the entirety of the audience and stage. It was, honestly, kind of pretty. And more importantly, it seemed to be empty. If he was alone, he was safe.

Just as Eddie began to feel his heart relaxing, he heard it. A soft thump, thump, followed by an unpleasant dragging sound. He whirled to see - oh god.

A zombie. Of course. Dried blood soaked into a hawaiian shirt, only half buttoned. One leg broken and dragging, sliding around with every limping step, the bone poking out through his lower leg. That awful sound it made as the bone pressed against the flesh.   
  
The air was stolen from Eddie’s lungs the moment he saw the thing. He could breathe. He whined and stumbled backwards as he fumbled in his pockets for his inhaler, but didn’t even get one puff in before his feet betrayed him. He slipped and fell to the stage floor, his inhaler skittering across the wood and bumping softly into the zombie’s foot.

Eddie knew he was going to die.

The zombie seemed to pause, looking at the object that had hit it’s foot. It leaned down, arms swinging haphazardly until one managed to grasp the inhaler. The zombie straightened back up, inspecting the thing, pressing it and watching it puff uselessly into the air. Eddie had heard about this. Zombies exhibiting human behaviors. Some kind of twisted remnant of who they once were.

Eddie’s breath only got shallower as that thing began to shuffle towards him again. He clutched at his chest, wheezing desperately. He’d never seen one of those monsters so close before. He’d never wanted to. He figured maybe that the final thought of a lot of people these days. “Please,” he barely choked, barely audible as he fell into a coughing fit. Tears stung at his eyes and he could barely see now, as the zombie collapsed awkwardly to its knees and leaned in over him. He didn’t know why he was pleading with this thing. Maybe he was pleading with God himself. Though if some God had allowed all this to happen, why would he ever turn a kind eye on Eddie now?

Eddie closed his eyes tight.

“Meh… sin…”

His eyes shot open, still blurred by tears. He could barely make out that the zombie was holding out his inhaler towards him. And there was no one else here who could have made that odd grunting sound that almost sounded like words. Eddie dragged his arm across his eyes to clear them and finally saw what he had somehow been blind to before.

Wiry, wild hair. Glasses askew, one lens broken in the frame. A messy bit of stubble, and a jawline that couldn’t be mistaken.

He barely gasped out the name. “Richie?”

This zombie, this thing that had once been Richie, pushed the inhaler towards him again. It seemed to be focusing very hard before it grunted again. “Med… a… sin.”

_ Medicine. _

Eddie had no choice. He snatched the inhaler from Richie’s hand and took several puffs, letting his breathing return to normal. When he caught sight of the zombie again he scrambled backwards and onto his feet, moving away from it - or him?

It was Richie. It was definitely Richie. God. He hadn’t seen him since… he gasped a sob, tears filling his eyes again. He had known. He had known richie must be dead, but god, to see it. To look at him as this. “What…” he managed, but couldn’t find a question to ask.

Richie laid his palms on the wooden stage, trying to push himself up. The broken leg crunched angrily. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but the injury wouldn’t allow him to rise from his knees. He let out a sound almost like a whimper, and looked up at Eddie. “Help.”

Eddie jumped, his hand shooting to his mouth. That grunt had sounded clearer than the last. That zombie was  _ speaking  _ to him. In a voice that, while hoarse and broken, sounded like Richie’s.

He crept closer to the - to Richie, as the other continued to simply look at him. He could run. He could run from this theater and pretend he never found him. But he could still hear the faint banging on the door, and… could he really just leave him like this?

Eddie tried to reason with himself that Richie was dead, gone. This thing wasn’t him. But it  _ was _ . It was Richie. His Richie.

“Are you going to hurt me…?” Eddie asked slowly.

“Eh.. die… Eddie…” Richie muttered. Then, simply, “Safe.”


End file.
